


goodbye to my graceless heart,

by daxometry



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blind Ignis Scientia, Blow Jobs, Coping, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Established Relationship, M/M, Panic Attacks, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Tent Sex, Timeline What Timeline, Top Ignis Scientia, gladio gets kicked in the balls :/, im so pissed ivee tried to upload this 3 times, im so sorry i go overboard whenever i write them :( im rly dramatic so, ok here we go, so jus roll with it theyre still camping, someone thot it was old ignoct so honestly just whatever u want dudes, uhh that one pop team epic meme ignis lovs noct a Whole Lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daxometry/pseuds/daxometry
Summary: The dark behind his lids was suffocating, but he wasn't sure lighting up the tent would help. The ghost light startled Ignis more than the dark. Daylight was the impressions of figures behind closed eyes, or the faces a child saw in the night; it was the ghosts a mind could dream up, but he knew he couldn’t wake up from a nightmare when it was already day. Ignis was wrapped in a veil that would never fall, blindfolded by the Gods as a party trick with a knot too tight ― he'd been mummified in saran wrap, and no way to claw himself out.Noctis tore a hand from his back and pressed it to his own neck, instead. Ignis choked as Noct commanded: “Count.”Ignis remembered this, too. Children, falling asleep under starlight, hands clasped. Like that, Noct could rest his thumb on Ignis’ pulse point and count the beats like sheep.This wasn’t exactly something the same.





	goodbye to my graceless heart,

**Author's Note:**

> !!! im so sorry im so late with this but i hope it's worth it and u like it!! this is for @dthjoey on tumblr!! :^) there is a brief panic attack in the beginning but it's pretty vague on details bc it's the explanation ignis gets on what happened while he was freaking lmao i ran w/ ur idea of noct comforting ignis and suddenly it turned into this

They’d been fighting, which maybe was all they did these days, and a series of things had gone wrong. Firstly, the gunshot.

It was a clumsy mistake, to not know who he was landing next to, to not be aware of their positions on the field. Then It was just something set in motion, something he couldn’t account for once it began. He’d come out of a flip, and missing the cock of the gun in the din of battle, he had no time to prepare himself for how loud the shot would be.

 

Prompto’s guns were loud. Yet, with guns, when you saw one, you knew it would be loud. A part of you knew what was going to happen, what it would sound like, and what would follow.

As Ignis understood it, the shot went off, and in his confusion, he hadn’t avoided one of the Dualhorns charging, and was bodily thrown during his stumble away and onto the ground. The ringing in his ears was akin to the sharpness of a needle. It was mind numbing, piercing through his skull and all other sounds were distant and faded.

 

He’d rolled down part of a hill, further disorientated and rankled, the smell of grass sticking to his skin and somewhere, distantly, he’d known there was blood. Then there were hands touching him, defiling him, gripping him roughly and pulling him… _this_ direction ―   _no_ ― _that_ direction ―   it was all up in the air.

 

Ignis… He’d reacted violently, kicking out and shielding his face with his hands. His head hit ground painfully, sending a pulsing throb down his spine. There was an _oof_ and he forced himself into motion, scrambling away. He was directionless, only seeing in blurry light and black and _blind_.  

 

“Ignis,” a voice cried but it had been so far away; it only urged him only to _keep going,_ find a way out, _recover._

 

He hadn’t had the chance to recover, Gladio had caught up to his stumbling, panicked run and gripped him from behind. As Prompto told it, even with his arms restrained he’d gotten more than one good kick in, specifically, one to the Amicitia jewels.  

 

Gladio had had enough with the struggle and  knocked him over the head, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him back to camp with a frantic Prompto and Noctis taking up the rear.

Maybe it’d been a long time coming, Ignis mused. It was humiliating to have been so disorientated over a mission that was, ultimately, superficial. All his composure, gone in a near instant, and it hadn’t even been over anything _close_ to the events that lead to his blindness. Nothing close to even fighting an _Iron Giant._

 

How could he have cracked so easy under such little force, over something as simple as a series of accidents?

 

Prompto was a liability. He could fall weak. Ignis had never seen war, but he and Gladio were raised for it. Though he was Crownsguard, Prompto didn’t sign up for _this_. They stood before Gods, before myth and speculation and magic, and hell. He still stood fast beside them, and Ignis respected that. He’d even grown to respect him for his loyalty to Noct, but it meant nothing if Prompto fell apart.

 

Noctis was the True King. The one with the Gods’ favor, with ice in his veins and a death planned before his birth. Gladiolus' worst fear was to be struck down, to be useless, to let the people around him fall because of his failures. His pride would be his undoing ― it made him brutal, and easily turn obstinate. For it all to come down to Noctis, they were all a little bit useless. It was a waiting game, and Ignis would wait a millennium, if it meant Noctis wouldn't be torn away from him.

 

A shield was a protector, it was in its nature to be patient. A shield held steadfast and took blow after blow, it was strong and the best were impenetrable. Gladio was strong, but he'd always been _proactive_. His first instinct was to affront ― to push forward rather than fall back. He wasn't an idiot ― Ignis trusted him as a comrade. Though... Gladiolus nipped at Noct's heels in his anxiousness, stir-crazy and furious. Ignis wasn't surprised he’d react this way, but he was disappointed nonetheless.  

 

No amount of respect in the world would deign them worthy enough that Ignis would give into his own ails.  Ignis didn’t have the time to mourn the light when so much was _still_ at stake.

 

So Ignis awoke in a tent, exhausted, and tried to shove the panic down his throat like the stale crackers Prompto had brought him with his stammered apology and can of Ebony, and promptly fell back under into sleep.

 

-

 

The tent flap startled him awake when it shifted, but he caught himself from reacting. His awareness came to him all at once at the sound. He knew the sound of their footsteps by heart, the shifting of their weight. Gladio’s steps were sure where they fell, and heavier than Prompto’s, less skittish. He was a brute, but he could be a quiet one. Pebbles would skid, or dirt give way, and he’d freeze, listening. Ignis remembered how he looked, side by side and deadly still in the thick of an imperial base. The long pauses was exactly what gave him away.

 

It was simply Noct, pulling back the canvas quietly, with a gentle, _“Hey.”_

 

He busied himself with untying his boots, and the canvas was pushed open again as he tossed them outside.  Ignis’ head wasn’t pounding, but he knew that might not be true tomorrow. He sat up slow and cautious.

 

“Noct,” He replied in greeting. “Are you alright?”

 

Noctis nodded, crawling over to Ignis, then rectified it quickly: “Oh, yeah. Gladio and Prompto went into town. Needed some… Ice.”

  
“Ah. Is it late?”  
  
Noct hummed, moving around Ignis to get at his bag. “It’s already dark, they’ll just grab a room.”

 

Before Ignis could voice his question, Noct threw an explanation over his shoulder. “Prom wanted us all to go, but Gladio didn’t want to jerk you around ‘till he knew your head was fine.”  
  
Ah. It was inconvenient, and, rather unsafe to break up their party, but Ignis understood. He couldn’t fault Gladio for his decision, and was appreciative for the concern.

 

“Personally,” Noctis continued, “I just think he wanted as far as away as he could from that mean donkey-kick thing you’ve got going on.”  
  
Ignis laughed as lightly as he could. “Apologies, Noct. I’m glad there was no harm done beyond Gladiolus’ pride.”

 

Noct pressed himself against Ignis’ side, rubbing his arms together awkwardly.   _“Ha,_ uh, yeah.”

 

Ignis cringed. “How hard did I get you?”

 

Noctis bumped their shoulders together. “It’s no big deal, Iggy. What’s more important…”  
  
A hand had cupped his jaw without warning. The cool brush of skin against skin jolted him awfully, his shoulders hiking up and his body leaning back of its own accord.

 

“S-Sorry!” Noct stammered. He reached out to touch again, this time, the back of his fingers hesitantly stroking down his cheek.

 

Ignis held his breath at the light, feathering touch― didn’t dare lean into it.

 

The fingers traced the edges of his worst eye. Ignis shuddered and tensed further as Noctis shifted again, throwing a leg over Ignis and situating himself in his lap. Noct’s breath ghosted across his face, warm puffs of air as he grew closer, another hand tentatively stroking Ignis’ arm.

 

It was a worm of a thought, wondering if they disgusted Noct. Wondering how rough they were against another’s skin that wasn’t Ignis’ own careful prodding.

 

Noct’s thumb swiped over the high arc of Ignis’ eyebrow, then following his cheekbone back down, to brush against the groove in Ignis’ lip.

 

“Noct.” Ignis finally interrupted.

 

Noct swooped in close and kissed his own thumb, a poor excuse for a blockage between their lips when Noct was pulling it down to suck on his upper lip and lick into his mouth.

 

Ignis wrenched back so quickly Noctis was nearly dismounted from his lap.

 

Noctis sucked in a breath sharply and shook Ignis’ shoulder.

 

“Don’t look away,” He demanded and without knowing his expression, without seeing the pout of his lips, or the depth of his gaze, Ignis floundered.

 

“I don’t bloody well have much to look at, Noct,” He snapped.

 

“Fine.” Noctis made a broken sound. _“I_ want to see.”

 

The sharp blade of guilt tortured Ignis again, drawing breath hurt like rib puncturing lung.

 

Ignis slowly turned his face back into Noct’s touch, head lolling to his shoulder. He touched his scar with the barest of touches.

  
Then, soft, butterfly kisses across his cheek. Noct’s eyelashes fluttered against his skin, and his nose brushed across temple. Then, soft, curious pecks to holy burned skin. The same anxiety from before spiked inside Ignis. It was like Noctis’ wandering touch would never cease, feeling like hives rather than comfort in Ignis’ stretch-thinned skin.

 

“You can look quite plainly, Noctis, stop.”

 

“Gods, why can’t you―  just―” Noctis groaned, shoving his head into his hands, then yelped.

 

“Shit, shit, _fuck_ I shouldn’t have done that.”

Ignis hesitantly placed his hands on top of Noct’s thighs. “It was… You don’t have to react like that, Noct, I…”  
  
_“No!_ Not that!” Noct whined pathetically. “My nose just _really fucking hurts.”_

 

Ah. No bloody ‘ _harm done’_ his ass. Ignis should have known. Wordlessly, he brought his hands up to cradle Noctis’ jaw and gently tilted his head. He kissed Noct once, holding him firmly in place.

 

“Now, how bad is it, and did you not use a potion?”

 

He needn't strive hard to picture a dazed, indulged Noctis.

 

 _“Mmm?_ You, uh. Well, I won’t forget how the bottom of your shoe looks like any time soon.”

 

Ignis scowled, motioning a hand.

 

“We’re all good, we did,  it’s just _tender_ still,” Noctis continued sheepishly. “We have one or two left… I… _We_ , wanted to save it for you when you woke up, in case.”

 

Ignis fell back against the sleeping bag, nodding. The anxiety under his ribs spread up and out, heartburn radiating in thin random spikes as fine and broad as a spider’s web. Like a child playing with his heart's home, tapping and blowing on the spider’s silk, each vibration rattled through each nerve of his chest and abdomen.

 

They needed Ignis, they cared for him, yet he lie here indisposed from no fault but his own.

 

Noctis… He couldn't bare this intimacy. In privacy Ignis could lay him down and suck marks alongside each Noct earned in battle, in clumsiness, in bed. He couldn't even do that now, that small act of worship, of comfort, he'd been privileged also stripped away.

 

Ignis reached out anyways, Noctis coming easily and covering him like the blankets he'd tossed off earlier.

 

His cheekbones were high and smooth, and his jaw clean shaven. His face had been washed, skin feeling cleaner than Ignis’ felt his own was.

 

Noct’s warmth was all over him, and that vibration, that careless child, that dancing spider, poisoned it.

 

When Noctis hummed low, noses brushing, Ignis tilted to kiss it softly, gently prodding around the swollen skin. It was puffy against his fingers, a harsh bump obvious.

 

Ignis winced, it wouldn't look very pretty. “You were the one who got to me first, I see.”

 

“Why, you wanna’ kiss _my_ bruises better, Specs?” He tried to joke but it came out flat. His tone was near accusative.

 

Ah. His _tone_ said ‘ _hypocrite.’_

 

Ignis fisted his hands in Noct’s soft pajamas. There was no stumbling, no squeak of leather, nothing at all but Noct, waiting. They were alone, and the world around them creeped in; the faint sounds of a nearby creek, and chirping crickets sounded from no discernible direction.

 

He always wanted that. It was suddenly embarrassing to admit it, something he'd never acknowledged because it would be _Noctis_ who would fluster.  

 

It was strange to bring it to the light, to ask to be tender, to ask for help with it. Ignis’ heart said ‘ _hypocrite,’_ too.

 

It felt strange to be so unsure of himself here. Ignis nodded slowly.

 

It was like needing to shed ― like Ignis' sight would come if only he clawed his way out from this tight skin.

 

“Fine. Then _touch_ me.”

 

Then Noct's lips dragged across his neck, catching on Ignis’ soft skin, and though Ignis denied himself matters of the heart, who was he to deny his king? Ignis’ hands slid to Noct’s hips, dragging them flush together. He tilted his head back and waited for what would come. Noctis' kisses could be spiders creeping along his skin in the dark if Ignis didn't focus hard on the realness of it all. Ignis’ body could be full of them. Unfortunately, Noctis didn't give him a second to think, a second to do any more than feel. Noct was coaxing an ugliness out of him and he had an idea Noct _meant_ to.  
  
Hot breath ghosted over his chin, his lips, as Noct raised from his lap. Noct's hands framed his cheeks, and Ignis couldn't see his heated gaze, but he _felt_ it. He remembered it like a dream, like something he'd always known, something that made sense, but he could never say why.  

 

Noct’s nose brushed his, and his palms were clammy against Ignis’ skin when he turned Ignis’ face to meet his. Their lips brushed softly, sharing a breath Ignis felt he'd been holding since night fell. Ignis’ shoulders sagged forward, relaxing into Noct’s fingers that turned to card through his hair. When Noct moistened his lips, Ignis felt the brush of his tongue against his lips before it pulled back away, enticing shivers down his spine.

 

It felt momentous, waiting. All Ignis had to do was lean forward, but it didn't feel right. He didn't know what Noctis was waiting for, but with heat flaring through his body, the darkness felt… Intimate. It felt like every other time Ignis had closed his eyes for this, soft kisses shared under the curtain of night. Noct’s skin was soft, and Ignis nuzzled against his face, nudging their noses together purposefully.

 

“Show me,” Ignis choked.

 

Noctis laughed softly into his mouth and slanted their lips together, grinding down in his lap sinfully. Noct melted against Ignis perfectly, their lips pressed together hard and hot and unforgiving. It felt too natural, like nothing had changed, nothing had gone wrong, and _that_ thought was devastating.

 

“Here,” Noct rushed, jerking Ignis’ hand to cup Noct’s jaw. “MTs today. It’s fresh so it’s just kind of red right now.”

Ignis rubbed gently, imagining the hue of Noct’s tender skin. “Oh?” He said, because there wasn’t much else to.

 

“Yeah.” Noct rested his forehead against Ignis’, humming. “Didn't judge for distance.”

 

Ignis _tsked_ and guided him into another searing kiss, feeling Noct’s jaw work under his hand. His other Noct took in his, and as the kiss grew more heated, he unsubtly slid Ignis’ hand up his shirt to rest on his abdomen. There was the long stretch of what used to be a cut, now scabbed over, beneath Ignis’ palm. His thumb worried over the skin, pulling away from Noct in question.

 

“Sabertusk,” Noct rushed out, gluing himself back to Ignis’ front before he could get a word in.

 

When Ignis pulled back again, Noctis took it as an opportunity to free himself of his shirt. “It’s healing,” Noctis went on, sounding slightly put out, but putting his hand over Ignis’ to stroke over the skin nonetheless. “It’s gross, it’s all yellow.”  
  
“The cut?” Ignis hissed in panic.

Noctis jerked, hurriedly holding up his hands in what would be a placating gesture for a man who could see it. “No, no! Sorry! It’s all bruised up, it’s not infected or anything! It’s scabbed over and everything.”

 

He imagined the mottled bruises now with relief, slumping back into Noct’s embrace. It would take some getting used to. He didn’t know if he should tell Noct that when it was obvious.

 

Noctis stole more hurried pecks from him, like he was stocking up. They didn’t always have the privilege of privacy, and Ignis had been distant. With some kind of remorse, he let himself play the piano up and down Noctis’s ribs and kiss back deeper than he should, stealing the words from Noct he couldn’t train.

 

 _“Yeah_ ,” he mumbled against Ignis’ lips, “Yes, this is... _yeah,_ Ignis.”

 

His hands trailed to his hips, then to his back, Ignis rubbing circles to the edges of Noct's scar and then back down the curve of his spine. He’d seen what _this_ had done to Noctis. When the Marilith ripped him open, it’d poisoned something inside Noct, long after his skin knit back together.

 

When they were children, night after night, Noctis would crawl into his bed, despondent and shaking. Noctis had never been further away than when he sought respite in Ignis’ bed. He’d been faraway from the Citadel ― from Insomnia ― in a place Ignis couldn’t reach. When Ignis clasped Noct’s hands, he had thought it might be the only thing that kept Noct from floating off into the night for the Gods to take.

It’d been a reminder of the horrors being a Caelum wrought, something Ignis had to become stronger for.

 

Their lips met together with sweet wet smacks and the smooth slide of tongue, Ignis breathing hard through his nose and his thumbs traced the ridges of raised skin and dug into tense muscle. With Noctis curled around him, Ignis was weak.

 

 _Dammit_ . He wrenched away, mind swirling. Ignis had adapted. _Was_ adapting. He could lock away the dread. With so much that could go wrong, Ignis had to be the one ready for anything. He could keep this torrent within him at bay if only for a moment longer, if only Noctis didn’t soften him.

 

Everything was about Noct, everything was _for_ Noct. The slightest pressure and Noctis could break Ignis into shards. Scars were scars, and Ignis couldn't let his define him, couldn't give it the time to warp him.

 

The dark behind his lids was suffocating, but he wasn't sure lighting up the tent would help. The ghost light startled Ignis more than the dark. Daylight was the impressions of figures behind closed eyes, or the faces a child saw in the night; it was the ghosts a mind could dream up, but he knew he couldn’t wake up from a nightmare when it was already day. Ignis was wrapped in a veil that would never fall, blindfolded by the Gods as a party trick with a knot too tight ― he'd been mummified in saran wrap, and no way to claw himself out.

 

Noctis tore a hand from his back and pressed it to his own neck, instead. Ignis choked as Noct commanded: “Count.”

  
Ignis remembered _this_ , too. Children, falling asleep under starlight, hands clasped. Like that, Noct could rest his thumb on Ignis’ pulse point and count the beats like sheep.

 

 _This_ wasn’t exactly something the same.

 

Noct had him pinned before Ignis even knew he wanted away. Ignis jerked his hand, but with Noctis holding him by the wrist, the struggle pressed his palm harshly against Noctis’ adams―apple. At Noct’s grunt of discomfort, Ignis froze guiltily and went slack. Noct clenched his knees around Ignis’ thighs and huffed.

 

“Ignis,” He said his name like it would bring him home. “C’mon. Just breathe with me.”

His hands ghosted up and down Ignis’ arms, and he held Ignis’ wrist more gently, thumbing back and forth at his pulse point like he used to.

 

Ignis exhaled shakily, but nodded. “Yes, but we’re not _children_ anymore,” he chided, but it was weak, and the grip he had on Noct’s neck didn’t feel innocent, didn’t feel like something a child would do. Instead, it felt like… Ownership.

 

If Noctis was his, he would take him far away from this place, to the ends of all Eos, if it meant he was safe. Ignis would watch the Gods crumble their little sandbox and lay waste to another era if it meant Noctis wouldn’t have to die for a people who would never deserve him. There was a deep selfishness in Ignis when it came to Noct, something he held tight and coiled, fisted deep inside him. The Gods had made their claim to Noctis, but Ignis never could shake the need to get the last word in.

 

Noctis stilled. “You got me, Iggy?”

 

Ignis knew he wasn’t really asking. It was the brat prince Gladio saw, with Ignis wrapped around his finger.

 

“Always, Noct,” he answered in resignation. Of course the one definity Ignis knew to be true would be the source of his hypocrisy. His allegiances were precisely why he had to be extra cautious here, not let his guard down.

 

“Then that’s that. I trust you,” Noct said as if it were that simple. “That hasn’t changed.”

 

Ignis felt a softer wave of guilt, this one like a tide rather than a stab― it was _good_ Noctis wasn’t being chained here, armored in the magic of the mystics and the old. He couldn’t be a spoiled prince when there was the proof of equal bloodshed raised across his skin.  

  
Loving Noctis was an act of faith, and holding Noct’s trust was a blessing for the devout. Ignis knew a person wasn’t a possession, but his love was so large it walked on its own. He’d follow Noctis to hell if he couldn’t deliver him from it. So he finally kissed him gently like he deserved to be, squeezed his hand lightly around Noct’s neck and felt the blood pumping beneath skin all along his palm, alive and thunderous.

 

The thrumming of Noct’s heart was a built-in timer, he released his hand after several thumping beats.

 

Noctis let his grip fall to smooth its way down Ignis’ own waist, then up his shirt. His arms wrapped under Ignis’, rubbing down Ignis’ back the way he often would do for him.

 

Ignis squeezed again, counting _one, two, one, two._ It was… It _was_ reassuring. His heart was loud and he was here, and Ignis breathed to the counting of it.

 

Exhale, release. Inhale, squeeze.  There was a calmness in it all, underneath the strange tension that came with the suggestion of it

 

“I miss you,” Noct laughed breathlessly. Ignis felt the words under his palm, felt Noct’s jaw move.  
  
“I’ve been here,” Ignis replied evasively.

 

Noctis leaned against him. “Yeah. I know.”

It was trying to admit. It was encouragement where there were reasons Ignis couldn’t let these feelings take him, couldn’t let them consume him in his own tragedies. He missed Noct all the time. He missed his smile, his eyes, his anger. He missed the cuts along his side he could soothe and he missed the _stars_.  

 

“I… I as well.”

 

“Yeah,” He tugged on Ignis’ loose t-shirt. “I know that, too.”

 

Ignis complied silently, pulling it over his head. When Noct touched him this time, chests flush together, it didn’t sting. Ignis relished in it.

 

“Those too, Iggy.” Then he was rolling his hips dangerously against Ignis’, and _that_ wasn’t uncomfortable _at all._

  
How much he wanted it was a struggle on its own. Noctis knowing made it worse. Ignis’ hips met Noct’s, and then Noctis was sitting back on Ignis’ thighs, twisting to bring his bag closer rather than leave Ignis’ lap. The rummaging was obnoxious, plastic bags crinkling and clothes unceremoniously shifted through, and presumably tossed to the tent floor. Then he was there again, with the pop of a cap and urgent hands tugging at Ignis’ pants.

 

Well, Ignis shouldn’t be surprised. He placed his hand over Noct’s and threaded their fingers together, moving it away from the hemline.

 

Noctis didn’t miss a beat, twisting their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of Ignis’ hand. It was a silly thing for Ignis to flush over, but he found himself warm and smiling the tiniest bit nonetheless.

 

“Hm. I remember being told that was cheesy,” Ignis accused. “Sappy, even.”

 

Noct’s kisses trailed along his forearm and stopped at his wrist. He wanted to laugh, as Noct sucked a mark into his wrist, of all places, but he was afraid if he did it might shatter this growing calm around them.

 

“Haven’t you heard? It’s romantic,” Noctis teased back. “ _Charming_ , even.”

 

The skin was thin and twinged sharply from Noctis’ teeth, but it was alright.

 

He’d never see it ― but Noct would.  

 

Noctis pulled the hand to his mouth and placed a kiss to the palm. His warm breath soothed the hurt and cooled the spit against his skin. He took Ignis’s ring finger, the finger burned by the Lucii, into his mouth.

 

Ignis would melt underneath Noct’s idle affections. It was a silly thing. He shivered hard, anyways. He pulled Noct close and ground their hips together, anyways.

Panting, Noct pulls Ignis’ cock out of his pants with no warning, rocking them together like it wasn’t another crack along Ignis’ resolve. Ignis was already gone, why try and deny it? His hips rose in an aborted motion, partly a baulk at the onset of pleasure, but the other half of him chasing it.

 

The firm, calloused touch of his Noct, swirling around the sensitive head of his cock, it made the back of his eyes prick at the ache to _give in._ To _take_ without guilt, to do nothing but feel, whether it was agony or ecstasy.

 

Noct jerked him once, twice, hard. Then his hand was pulling away, and Ignis heard the squirt of lube. Noctis’ moan sounded unbelievably smug. Ignis’ hand ventured to drag down Noct’s sweats, expected Noct to already be touching himself, but Noct’s hard dick bounced against his belly and _ah._

 

Ignis’ hand drift down Noct’s arched back, and lower, to grip Noct’s ass. There’s the telltale gasp, the tense thighs, the audible wet, messy glide of fucking.

 

Noctis groaned and dropped his wrist, fingers sliding out from between his lips. Drool slowly rolled between Ignis’ fingers and made its way down his palm. _Shiva._ They were already a mess.

 

Messier still as Ignis slid to the source of the wet sounds filling the tent, where Noct’s fingers disappeared. He spread Noct wide and let his fingers run through the slick of excess lube, disrupting Noct’s lazy thrusting.

 

Noct teetered precariously to the side, haltingly wrapping his arm around Ignis’ shoulders for support. He seesawed back and forth, as desperate to rut against Ignis as he was to fuck himself down on his own fingers.

 

Ignis felt them slide against his middle finger, hands bumping together clumsily. Noct was forced to spread his fingers to scissor himself if he didn't want his rhythm to further falter. Ignis circled his rim lightly, quick to press in alongside Noct’s own two.

 

Noct’s pace was sloppy and indulgent, curling his fingers at the end of each thrust and fucking himself quick enough his wrist slapped wet and crude against his ass.  

 

Ignis kept his touch slow and searching. He prodded experimentally a few times, shallow and purposeful inside Noct.

 

Noctis whines impatiently, but Ignis knows when his searching’s paid off because Noct jolts and grips the hair at the nape of his neck harshly. Ignis’ head follows his grip, mouthing at the hollow at his cheekbones and feeling the warmth in Noct’s cheeks against his, flushed and sweaty when he pecks them softly. Beads of sweat gather at his brow, heat radiating from him everywhere. The salt sticks to Ignis’ tongue and it’s everything he’s been missing at once.

 

Noct’s fingers slip out, letting Ignis takeover with fucking him, adding another finger and gently massaging his prostate.

 

“You’re going to fuck me, right, Iggy?”

 

Ignis could, he could so easily,  just get Noct off like this. He twists his fingers, and Noct’s resounding moan proves it. He could appease him, any loneliness that might be lingering, and Ignis could simply treasure this on its own.

 

It's like Noctis can hear his thoughts, because he bounces in Ignis’ lap, taking both their cocks in hand and stroking them together. The hand in his hair grips his shoulder as leverage again.

 

“You're not going to _leave_ me like this, are you?”

 

That heat in his stomach spreads through him, unrelenting and _wanting._

 

“Who else do I trust like you?” He's got that same, snarky tone Ignis rarely hears. He slows his grip, circling around Ignis’ head again.

 

Ignis let's out a whine he doesn't recognize.

 

“Better yet, Ignis.” He fists him root to tip. “Who else do you trust?”

 

Ignis blinks out of habit, the enticing fog of arousal turning to a haze of confusion. Ignis’ fingers are fucking Noct in earnest, fast and hard, and Noct ruts them together again at the same pace.

 

“Who?”

 

Ignis shakes his head desperately, “I don't―” _understand._

 

“Who else do you trust to take care of me?” Noct’s fingers dug into his shoulders near painful, the dull ache distracting.

 

“Noct, _please_ ―”  

  
“Who else?” Noct pressed. _“Who else?”_

 

 _“No one.”_ Ignis finally growled, awful and selfish and _true._

 

It was wrapped in a cool logic Ignis couldn’t persuade himself from. He could never back out. _Never go where I can't follow,_ Ignis thought, desperately. Though it was too thoughtless a demand for blood touched by destiny.  As long as he knew what would become of Noct, as long as he was _there_ no one else could support Noctis as he did, no one else could hold Noct like _this_.

 

“That’s right, _c’mon,_ Specs,”  Noctis challenged, urging him on with a roll of his hips.

 

Ignis seethed, finally just grabbing Noct’s thighs and rolling them over. Noctis squeezed his legs tight around Ignis’ waist, letting out a startled yelp. From the feel of things, they’d made a mess of the sleeping bags, too. Noctis was a strung bow beneath him, tense and still and _waiting._

 

“This is how I’ll take care of you,” Ignis said hotly into his ear, nipping at the lobe. “Savoring every inch.”

 

Noct shuddered happily against him, and Ignis knew that telltale mix of smug and embarrassment in the way he pushed at Ignis’ shoulder and tried to cover his voice trembling. “Well? Get on with it if you're so adamant.”

 

His abdomen flexed under Ignis’ searching hands and Ignis felt the wet trail of Noct’s arousal. A string of precum connected the head of Noct’s dick to the sweat slick expanse of his stomach, catching on Ignis’ fingers.

 

Noct moaned long and low when Ignis grabbed his cock, arms wrapping around Ignis’ neck to pull him closer.  

 

“C’mon, I’m ready,” Noct whined.

 

Ignis hummed noncommittally, following a vein with his thumb. He easily slid from Noct's grip and between his thighs properly, humming thoughtfully. He blew against the tip lightly to feel Noct become statuesque beneath him, then stroked his dick as he brought it properly to his lips. Ignis kissed the tip wet and nasty, prodding his tongue against the slit.

Noct 's leg kicked out like his knee got hammered with a doctor's mallet. "That's good too!" He squeaked. 

Smiling coyly, he nosed down to the base of Noct’s dick, lips wet as he chased at runaway drops of drool and precum and both, let it all sit heavy on his tongue. His cheek was smeared and he was drowning in the heady scent of sex, licking his way back up to the head of Noct’s cock.

 

His lips slid so nicely over Noct. He felt them puffy and kiss-bitten and now they’d be friction-pink and _Gods_ , Noct would see sex on him. Ignis hummed, pleased, and glanced up through his lashes.

 

He wasn’t graced with the pretty picture Noct was sure to make but the choked off sob,  the legs thrown over Ignis’ shoulders; the heel digging into his back impatient and unforgiving, Noct’s hand fisting itself in Ignis’ hair ― it was almost as good.

 

There was limited room to work with because of it, and there was always the matter of Noct potentially snapping Ignis’ neck. Ignis moved his arm from Noct’s hips, instead angling them up to take Noct’s jerky, rocking thrusts with hands on Noct’s ass.

 

His jaw was sore, and mouth so stuffed drool rolled down his chin, spit escaping with each sloppy fuck into Ignis’ mouth.

  
“Fuck,” Noctis groaned darkly, “Ignis, _please_.”  

 

He bobbed his head faster, relaxed his throat as best he could. He pushed Noct’s hips up as he went down, swallowing him loud and obscene.

 

“ _Ignis_ , I’m going to― _Yes_ ―”

 

Regretfully, Ignis slammed Noct’s hips back down firm with his arm and gave himself the smallest second to breath heavy through his nose before he pulled off with a wet _‘pop.’_

 

Noct made a confused sound, whining sharp like it hurt to be untouched.

 

Ignis pushed at Noct’s shoulder insistently, and when he didn’t get the hint, exhaled sharply and moved Noct himself. He gripped his hips and flipped him to his stomach, pinning him with a hand on the curve of his spine.

 

“ _I was so close_ ,” Noct whimpered. “What are y―”

 

Noct bit back his words with a gasp when Ignis grinded against his ass, head of his dick pressing against Noct’s entrance. _“Oh.”_

 

“Lube, Noct,” He requests, and he’d laugh at how desperately Noctis launches himself forward for the bottle if he hadn’t nearly kicked him in the face. Tit for tat, he mused.

 

“Here, here,” He urged, shoving the bottle back into Ignis’ waiting hands. He dribbles some into his palm and jerks himself with long, firm strokes, groaning. It’s shockingly cool against heated flesh, sending a harsh shiver down his spine.

  
Ignis rubbed Noct’s lower back as he dragged them flush together. “Deep breath,” He murmured, and then he was pressing in, feeling tight muscle shift and stretch.

 

It was hot, and tight, and perfect, and Ignis had to count to ten he was so dizzy with it. The entire world narrowed to this moment, to this feel of being inside Noct, of being the only one, of having that perfect wet heat wrap around his dick. His skin was fevered, and the pressure punched him in the gut hard and coiled, staggering his resolve.

 

 _“Move.”_ Noctis begged, his shoulders shuddering violently, his arms weak. When Ignis slid back out, cautious and gentle, Noctis sobbed at the loss.

 

His palm pressed itself between his shoulders and forced Noct flat to the ground rather than wait for his arms to give out. He fucked him through it, wrapping the other arm around his waist and hauling him down the mess of blankets, holding his hips up high.

 

“Good?” Ignis gasped raggedly.

 

Noctis cried out in answer, skin meeting skin with harsh slaps.

 

He was struggling against Ignis, so desperate to match Ignis’ thrusts he was, if anything, bucking him off. Noctis’ hands clawed for purchase along the floor of the tent, keening. The canvas material under Noct’s nails sounded like a zipper with no obstruction, crinkling and flat and nothing for Noct to hold.

 

In every life Ignis would know this. In every life Ignis would know the arch of sinew and bone, know the artistry of Noct’s body beneath his and the pitch of tone when he touched him perfect. He rolled his hips in a dirty grind, knocking Noctis’ knees further apart to hear Noct moan beautifully.

 

His blood was boiling for frenzy, to slide home till nothing but them and the stars existed, but Ignis didn’t want it to end so soon, to exist outside of this space between them. The new angle teased the head of his cock against Noctis’ prostate, only barely brushing it at his deepest thrusts.  

 

Noct’s sweet, whining moans were muffled, like he’d buried his face into the sleeping bags.  He wouldn’t be surprised if he had bitten done on a blanket. His ass squeezed around Ignis’ dick on every pull out, like he was trying to keep him inside longer, and _Six._

 

With nothing but touch and voice to paint a picture, Ignis smoothed his hand down Noct’s spine. He fucked in hard the way Noct liked and Noct flung his hand out to grip Ignis’ bicep, which worked conveniently for Ignis to grab Noct’s wrist and used it to yank him backwards. His whole upper body lifted off the ground to bow towards Ignis, slammed back on Ignis’ cock, arching till they were nearly pressed together back to chest.

 

Noctis cried out again, desperate and wild.

 

Ignis wrapped his hand around Noctis’ throat and gripped his jaw, tilting his head back for a languid, open―mouthed kiss. He smelled like the lube they’d used to open him up, like sweat and Ignis’ aftershave and sex, and Ignis thought, deliriously, this could get him high. He _was_ high with it. Heat seared through him, boiling him alive, pushing him to this abyss Noct wouldn't let him run from.

 

“Holy _shit_ , ye ― _yes_ ― _there_ ,” He breaks off with a sharp cry,

 

It was fitting Ignis had been named for fire, because all he wanted was to _burn―_ he would crawl through the carnage of flame. He’d been scarred by the Lucii, but not yet struck by Ifrit. It was a sign, if no other, to carry on. He’d go on as long as his body would let him, he’d follow Noctis through the wreckage, and here, now, he would make a wreck of Noctis, if only to meld him back together.

 

He holds him there by the neck, and he rumbles, “You want this?”

 

Noct tried to nod in his grasp, but, of course, couldn't. His other hand was a solid weight on Ignis’ hip, leaving to press Ignis’ hand firmly into his skin.

 

Ignis adjusted his grip, avoiding his windpipe, and pressed down. His pulse was so fast, so alive, it set a different kind of ringing in his ears than earlier. He couldn't hear, couldn't see.

 

Except Noct, heart booming beneath his hand, his gasping, punched out little breaths after each hard fuck into him; Noct was the sole source of sound in the entire forest.

 

His hips snapped in faster of their own accord, rhythmic like Noctis’ pulse, thundering in his ears.

 

He let go, let Noct breath in deep and hard and his pulse still rattled under his skin. _Noct trusts him_ _with this._

 

Gods, _Gods_ . Noct’s chest was heaving, cycling through breath fast and ― _and_ ―

 

Ignis feels this possessive, startling heat from head to toe.

 

His grip is back tight around his throat again, and he needs to be strong for Noctis, needs to be strong when Noctis can't be and ― Ignis feels every repressed memory, every feeling of doubt, feels it flood through him and away with Noct’s cries.

 

Ignis grabs Noct’s hand off his and jerks it back, adds it to his other grip. Noct's wrists in one hand, his other goes down to Noct’s dick, bouncing on his stomach wet again with precum.

 

Noct's insides are fluttering around him and Ignis thinks he might be _crying_ and he's yelling Ignis’ name and this spiteful, heat-delirious part of Ignis hopes the Gods look down on their Chosen King and know they'll _never_ get to him.

 

Then Noct is coming with a sob over Ignis’ hand, and without a thought he grips Noct by the neck again, cum smearing into his skin.

 

“ _Fuck_ , _Ignis_ ―”

 

He's out of that tight skin, so far gone but he's still trusted, still in control, still in Noctis’ orbit even as he cries out and he thinks he's coming harder than he ever has and he can't tell if he's hearing his own blood pumping or his king’s as that hot fire burns him alive sweeter than anything else could.

 

―

 

_“Whew.”_

They lay there, breathless and sweat-stuck together for an embarrassingly long time.

 

He's loose limbed and slack. There's no web inside him, at least, not now. His chest is open and his head feels wide and lungs full and it's such a powerful relief to really _breath._ To exhale, to let go of this breath he's held for so long, to hold Noct close like this.

 

“Quite,” Ignis groaned, hefting his deadweight off Noct. His skin was pins-and-needles. He could only imagine how Noct felt. He traced his hand across his back, spelling nonsense down Noct’s side.  

 

“Alright?” He whispered.

Noct curled against him and nodded, head bumping Ignis’ chin. “Yeah,” he affirmed, hoarse voice shocking in the fresh quiet. “Alright.”

 

“Water?” He asked, fumbling behind him for a bottle. They’d… Gotten a bit rearranged from where they’d started, so he wasn’t… Exactly sure how close he was to it. He felt a bottle of _something_ however, and tilted Noct up to look at it.

 

Noct took it from him and uncapped the bottle, of what, going uncorrected, Ignis assumed _was_ water. After, it was tossed somewhere to their side in favor of Noct having both hands to wrap around Ignis again.

 

“Love you,” Noctis mumbled to his collarbone. Ignis kissed his reply to the length of Noctis’ throat, leaning down and nuzzling against his face.

 

Maybe, at Noct’s side, he was allowed to fall into heartache with him.

 

He withdraws from Noct’s warmth, fumbling a bit in front of him. Vaguely he remembered where Noct had been fiddling with the bags before, and patted around the area with his one clean hand for the crinkle of, hopefully, wet wipes.

 

“Ah, that’s the… That’s Prompto’s cleaning stuff, hold on.” Ah, for the guns. Noct reattached himself, slumping over Ignis’ back.  
  
Ignis couldn't bite back the short: _“Ah._ I see. _”_

 

“Well, you always said I should clean up after myself more,” Noct said distractedly, and Ignis felt a little useless, but wiped the thought away as he shrugged Noct off and laid back against the soft tangle of sleeping bags and blanket.

 

“As King you should expect more responsibilities,” Ignis agreed teasingly, accepting Noct’s lingering touch. Noctis swiped Ignis’ forehead gently, the sharp cleaner scent stinging his nostrils.

 

“Yeah.” The rag dragged down the column of Ignis’ neck, making his skin uncomfortably damp, but he knew he’d rather be sticky with this than sticky with sweat. “Good thing my advisor really is battin’ a hundred, huh?”

 

Ignis turned his face into the smooth material of the sleeping bags, and, when he realized he was showing the worst of his scars, he didn’t rectify it. He smiled, soft and secret, and knew Noctis was too.

 

Even though Noctis was the one gently cleaning them, even though Noctis had truly been the one to take him from it all and allow him this catharsis, this release he wouldn’t have ever granted himself, Ignis hummed: “My duties _often_ coincide with doting.”

 

His legs fall apart lazily as Noctis slid between them, wrapping his arms around Ignis’ middle. Ignis cradled Noctis to his chest, running fingers through his sweat damp hair and shifting them to their sides. He held him tighter to his chest, let his body ache and head swim in Noct, smelling his hair and petting it lightly. Noctis was so real beneath his fingertips, and tiredly, Ignis thought, _thank you._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @veetya twitter @daxthony but i always end up changing it :( !! hope it was okay !!


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